A Material Lesson
by AubreyAndersonAuthor
Summary: For Pride and Prejudice readers seeking previously unseen scenes from the original novel by Jane Austen. This is a standalone series of 10 separate short stories that may be read in any order. In the original Pride and Prejudice, shortly after the Netherfield ball, Charles Bingley is convinced that his love for Jane Bennet is unrequited. Heartbroken, he gives up Netherfield and st


A Material Lesson

Charles studied the small ring that had been carefully packed away for so many years. There was nothing ostentatious or extravagant about the ring. Of course, he had known that as a small child, when the ring had graced the swollen, arthritis affected joints of his grandmother, Carolina Cyman Bingley, the wife of the first Bingley to enter into trade. Before, as loathe as Caroline was to be reminded of their humble origins, their grandfather had been an English lawyer, with an immigrant wife to boot. Upon the purchase of his first warehouse, something that had not occurred until he was well into his sixties, his grandfather had purchased for his wife a simple ring, containing a single pearl with no other adornments. It had not replaced the worn, plain gold band that never left her wedding ring finger, but Charles had rarely observed his grandmother without the ring, especially after his grandfather had died.

His father, her only son, had attempted to buy Carolina several pieces of jewelry, pieces that eventually went to his mother, as she had refused them all. Caroline, her namesake, had scoffed at her father's countless recountings of the story, as had Louisa, so it was left to him to carry on this fond memory of his grandmother.

Of course, Charles reflected with a sigh, Caroline would accuse him of living in the past and being blinded by Miss Bennet's beauty and genteel manner, two attributes his grandmother and future love shared, but he felt that she would appreciate the simple beauty of the story, as well as the ring. Charles was not unaware of the gulf that existed between them. He knew there were many who would criticize an attachment on either of their parts, his own blood being among those number, and it was that realization that caused him to press forward. He was the son of a trader, no matter what his sisters insisted upon otherwise, not even fully English, and yet here he was, in love with a gentlewoman and about to buy an estate, God willing.

The only obstacle in their path was fortune, and of that Charles had never been more grateful to have more than enough for the two of them. While his grandparents had married for love, his father and mother had not. His parents held an affection and deep respect for one another, but they had never truly loved one another.

He knew such things were not important to his sisters, Louisa's marriage to Hurst being the chief example, but that was their choice. His grandfather and father wished for him to enter into high society, to purchase an estate to pass along to his son, and finally to marry a woman of good family and name. The Bennets were a good name, perhaps not as old or noble as the Darcys of Pemberley, but nevertheless they were at the foremost of their society in Hertfordshire.

In his grandfather's time, a man like Mr. Bennet would not have allowed his daughter to marry a _Bingley_ , so how was the absence of a large fortune to compare to a Bennet? It was he who was marrying above himself, and he could only thank God that he had the funds to tempt such a match. He was not so ignorant of society, nor of the gossip surrounding the Bennets in Hertfordshire. It had taken him barely a fortnight to hear of the suitor his would be wife had rejected at the age of fifteen, a man who had twice his income. Miss Jane Bennet was not a woman to be led by what society dictated, and the time they had spent together in Hertfordshire only illuminated her character.

Charles Bingley sighed. He had never been one for great contemplation. Yet here he stood, just as lost in his reflections as in an energetic dance with an obliging partner. Immediately upon entering London, he had perhaps a bit prematurely, made an appointment to see his banker, Mr. Taylor. He needed to see the ring. Even during the short carriage ride over, he had attempted to convince himself that he was only here to see it, that he would put it back into storage after spending a few minutes studying it, but he knew that to be a false promise. He would bring the ring and other items with him back to Netherfield, to Miss Bennet.

"Mr. Bingley?"

Mr. Taylor's voice, tinged with concern pushed Charles out of his reverie, reminding him that he was not in his study, within his own home. With another lingering glance at the items before him, Charles hastily followed his banker to sit across from him at the desk overburdened with heaps and piles of ledgers and letter writing paper.

"I am able to provide you with a lockbox, if you so desire, Mr. Bingley," his banker's clipped, matter of fact tone encouraged Charles, as it did not imply judgement. If his sister were here…..Charles shuddered to think of what she might say or do, as she had made her thoughts on the Bennets, including Miss Jane Bennet, clear to him directly after he had thrown the ball at Netherfield. A day later, he had left Netherfield, left Miss Jane Bennet, and had gone away to London on business.

Another long pause, and Charles cleared his throat loudly, "My apologies, Mr. Taylor. A lockbox will not be necessary, and I thank you for taking the time to open for me. I know it is not your usual practice."

Another clipped nod, and his banker wrote out two copies of a receipt, a tangible reminder that Charles had taken several items out of the bank's possession legally.

"I bid you good day, Mr. Bingley and if you have any other legal needs, I bid you call on me as soon as you are able. Your father was one of the first to take a chance on my fledgling business, and I shall endeavor to do the same towards his son."

With a frown, Charles leaned back in his chair, ignoring his ledgers for a few minutes. They would keep. He had only been in town for a single day, and already he was missing the friendly, lively company of Meryton, and of Netherfield. He had gone for supper at his club the nights he spent in town, and had spent his days either in his study, or at his warehouse. Darcy had expressed before he left on horseback ahead of his carriage, that he had wanted to go with him. Charles had brushed him off, stating that he was only going to be in town for a few weeks, and that he would be dull company. Of course, Darcy knew all about being dull company, but Charles insisted. It would only be a few short weeks, and then he would be back at home.

He was now wishing that he had accepted Darcy's offer. He was lonely, despite all of the work that he had busied himself with once he had arrived. With a smile, his mind went back to the few short days ago, when he had been dancing at Netherfield with the woman he soon hoped to court properly. He was as sure of her feelings as he ever could be, ever had been before. During his time in society, he had fancied himself in love with many different women. Elder daughters of newly arrived society men such as himself, younger daughters of minor nobility-they had all been lovely and obliging ladies. He could not fault their manners or comportment, as easy and open as his own. But there was something different with Jane, something different within himself. What else could it be, but love?

When he returned to Netherfield, he would have to approach their courtship delicately. Charles had been careful, he thought, to avoid the appearance of showing any sort of favoritism to Miss Bennet. He was not ignorant of the expectations that had arisen, but that could only been attributed to country life, a much more tranquil existence to the goings on in Town. In Town, the eagerness of the debutantes and the wagers being made in every gentleman's club as to who would succumb to matrimony that season, made certain that rumors were wind and whom one was purported to be on the verge of a mutual understanding was very different from whom one ended up courting and marrying. Hertfordshire was different, he and Miss Bennet were different.

The lack of artifice was refreshing, he found. While the gossip and expectations surrounding the time they spent together did not help matters with his sisters, they were not wholly unfounded. He enjoyed the time he had spent with Miss Bennet and it was clear to everyone around them that she was also drawn to his company. General expectations rose to marriage fairly quickly, but he was not bothered by it. The denizens of Hertfordshire were a rather open and friendly people, which he enjoyed, and he would prefer honest speculation, than speculations based on rank and wealth. He _liked_ Miss Jane Bennet and did not make it a secret, nor did he single her out. It was clear to him that she enjoyed his company. Time could only take care of the rest.

He had made up his mind to bring his grandmother's ring back to Netherfield with him, and to hold it close to his breast at all times. If Darcy were here, he would tell him that the act of taking his grandmother's ring out of storage was a foolish one, especially as they were not even formally courting, nor had exchanged intentions with one another. But he hoped it would give him strength. Strength to follow in his grandparents footsteps, against the wishes of his dear sisters. They wished to marry "above" themselves, and he would not begrudge them their wishes. But in this, the matter of his marriage, he would do as he pleased.

Upon his return to Netherfield, he decided, he would approach Mr. Bennet and obtain his permission to formally court Miss Bennet. From what he had observed of the elder country squire, he seemed content to allow his daughters and wife to arrange their own affairs, a fact that was exceedingly evident as he observed Miss Elizabeth and their rector cousin, Mr. Collins, so Charles was confident that his bid would be accepted-with Miss Bennet's consent.

From there, he was not quite sure where he should proceed exactly, as he had never initiated a courtship with a gentlewoman before. He was not a great walker, not like Miss Elizabeth, and neither was Miss Bennet. He surmised that she was more horsewoman than walker, as she had answered his sisters' invitation to dinner by horseback, so perhaps they could go riding together. One of her sisters, perhaps Miss Mary or Miss Kitty could accompany them, if they rode. If not, a lesson or two could also be arranged. If he was to stay at Netherfield, the easy distance between their respective estates could do nothing but advance their relationships.

As often as his sisters sought to give him instructions, instead of sisterly advice, he could not imagine a time in his life without them. He was grateful that Hurst had no qualms about abandoning his own estate in Somerset to stay at Charles' townhouse or the countryside, as long as there was shooting and cards to be had. Miss Bennet and her sisters were close; that was not up for debate. Particularly she and Miss Elizabeth, as evidenced by the latter's walk three miles in the mud and dirt to visit her ill sister at Netherfield almost as soon as she had heard of the latter's ailment.

 _If_ Miss Bennet accepted his suit, _if_ she married him, he was certain that she would not wish to be far from her family. Netherfield was shaping up to be a good investment, and the added income would boost his coffers in the long run. As much as Darcy grumbled, it would not pain him to be so near his relatives by law. He had lost so many relatives before his majority, that one of his dearest wishes would be to have a large family. He would be so lucky as to have five daughters.

 _If_ only she accepted his suit.

Why would she not? Charles found himself suddenly nervous, as though Miss Bennet had cut him in a remarkably public fashion, much like his sister had done a few months previous towards an undesired suitor.

Mr. Augustus Pickworth, a young gentleman of moderate fortune and unremarkable, plain looks had boldly asked Caroline for her hand for the first pair of dances. Caroline, foolishly waiting upon Darcy to come and rescue her, even though Charles had informed her more than once before that evening that Darcy most likely would not be attending, was forced to accept his offer unless she wished to sit out of the rest of the dancing for the evening. The first dance had been carried out in an undistinguished manner, although Charles had observed that Mr. Pickworth had spent the entirety of the time trying to draw his sister into an intimate conversation, one that she had reciprocated.

The second dance, carried out a few minutes after the first, was much the same, until Caroline all but stalked away from her partner the moment the dance was officially over, while he was still mid sentence. The shock of the cut had caused Mr. Pickworth's entire face to redden into a rather unattractive shade of puce, in an alarming manner. He had thought the man was about to suffer a fit of apoplexy, and had been relieved to see he was wrong. Charles had been forced to apologize for his sister's behavior, as he was certain that she was ill and would never have been quite so rude otherwise. It had not been well received, and the gentleman had made it a point to ignore his sister unless society and good manners dictated their interaction.

Miss Bennet was not like Caroline. She was not like Miss Elizabeth Woodworth, Miss Celia Brandon, or Lady Eleanor Buckingham. There was no artifice about her, nor her family. Every interaction thus far had spoken only of a wish to know another better. Conversations about books, family, and their general activities had shown that they were of one mind, especially in their desires to have more time devoted to their interests. Miss Bennet's anecdotes surrounding the care of her younger sisters and the overhead of estate management with her mother, had shown a keen mind who was well aware of her duty, but also had precious few moments for her own personal pleasures. Exchanging a few minutes' worth of conversations about the pleasures of riding or spending the part of the morning amongst the blooms in her personal garden had given him a window into her soul and had only caused him to hunger for more. More knowledge regarding her hopes, her dreams, her wishes.

When he returned to Netherfield in a few short weeks, Charles vowed he would come to intimately know Miss Jane Bennet.

Charles heard his butler, Stevenson gently rap on the door of his study, shortly before opening the door. Charles glanced up, his attention piqued by what news Stevenson had brought, but was also caught Stevenson's tall, imposing presence. As Darcy would say, Charles' attention was all encompassing, yet diverted with the changing wind. Of course, he often said this in reference to Charles' romantic pursuits and attachments, but it was not any less true in other aspects of his life. Stevenson, early on had learned to simply knock, and enter straight away, otherwise he would be waiting all afternoon for Charles' permission to enter the room.

Charles was used to his sisters simply barging into his study, although they had learned to only do so while they knew he was alone, after an embarrassing incident, in which Caroline had barged into his study without so much as a word and angrily flounced down into one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, only to be met with Darcy's face, and not Charles'. It was their first encounter, one that he knew had mortified Caroline to this very day, especially after she had been formally introduced to Darcy. She should be glad that he was not quite so rigid and formal in his manners, elsewise he and Darcy would no longer be friends, and she would have to find someone else to set her cap to.

Taking his attention away from his ledgers, he asked distractedly, "What is it, Stevenson?"

Stevenson cleared his throat, before saying "Your sisters, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst have arrived with Mr. Hurst and Mr. Darcy. From Hertfordshire, sir."

"Yes, thank you, Stevenson. Tell them I shall be right down."

Stevenson did as he was bid, and left the room. Charles leaned back in his chair, frowning in confusion. What were they doing here? His business in town would only take a few weeks, and he had intended to return before Christmas. Had he misplaced a missive stating their intentions? If he had, he would never hear the end of it. Going downstairs, he greeted his family and friend.

"Charles, how are you?" Caroline said with a sharp smile, as she swiftly removed her doe skin gloves from her well manicured hands. Louisa stood next to her, absentmindedly adjusting her hat, as the feather was lilting to the side in what Charles supposed was an unbecoming manner. Mr. Hurst was nowhere to be found, most likely he had already found a bed or couch to deposit his bulk onto for a nap, but there was Darcy-tall and imposing as always.

Distractedly kissing both Caroline and Louisa on the cheek, he went to shake Darcy's hand.

"Darcy what are you all doing here? I thought we had agreed that we would stay in Hertfordshire through the holiday?"

Darcy's face was strangely impassive, even to him. Charles was used to this version of Darcy when they were younger. When they had met in University, Charles had been particularly intimidated by him; the heir apparent to the Pemberley estate and nephew of the Earl of Matlock. A family tree of the most noble and correct pedigree that went back through centuries, something that the Bingley's did not possess. A pedigree that would begin with Charles, and how he would lead their family for the next generations.

Charles had been hesitant to approach Darcy under any circumstances, due to not only his serious mien, but the rumors that had been floating around about his arrogant, proud nature. He was used to being dismissed by the sons of peers, although it did not cease to hurt, and had become a cause of acute embarrassment. Imagine his surprise, when Darcy had approached him! It had been the beginning of a beautiful friendship that he treasured to this day.

But seeing that look on his face, here, in his home, was _unsettling_ to say the least.

Caroline cut into the conversation with another one of her smiles, one that was meant to placate, yet quiet at the same time, "At least allow us to settle down before all of the questioning, honestly Charles. Are we to be interrogated because we chose to stay with you?"

Now Charles knew there was a matter that required his attention. His elder sister would not be so defensive if she did not think she was wholly justified. What had happened for them to leave Netherfield? He had barely been gone a day! At Caroline's not so subtle gesture, Charles responded by apologetically shaking his head. He knew that questioning his sister before she was ready was a fool's errand, and he would not be a good brother by interrogating her. Perhaps there had been some sort of an emergency and he had mislaid the letter. "Of course, Caroline dear. I'll tell the cook that you are all here, and we shall talk after our luncheon."

"Is there any news from Hertfordshire, Caroline? Louisa?"

Charles tried to keep the eagerness out of his voice, but from the bemused looks Caroline and Louisa exchanged, he saw that he had not been entirely successful.

"Nothing of note, Charles," Caroline began, as Charles watched her carelessly spear a piece of cold ham and egg, her body language at odds with her tone and words, "but I hardly keep abreast of _all_ the local gossip. Besides, the locals are still _delightfully_ enthusiastic over our little ball. I had four callers after you left, who wished to receive a blow by blow of the ball, as though we were not all there to witness it. I would shudder to think of how they would behave at a ball in London. And no, brother dearest, surprisingly the Bennets were not among their number," was Caroline's sarcastic parting remark on the subject.

Louisa snickered across from her, enjoying the direction of the conversation. "You forget sister," she simpered, unable to maintain a genteel composure, "the Bennets have other matters to be concerned with right now."

"What do you mean, Louisa?" Charles wondered aloud, inwardly relieved, that due to Louisa's good humor that there was not an illness or tragedy that had befallen the Bennet family since he had departed, but rather some minor gossip to be shared. Perhaps one of Miss Bennet's younger sisters had chased after a gentleman during the ball, a noteworthy occurrence due to their youthful predilections for the officers.

"Miss Eliza has refused her cousin!" Louisa and Caroline exclaimed the news at the same time, causing both of them to give each other brief glares, as though they had discussed beforehand who would drop such a manner of news into Charles' lap.

It could not have been the reason they had traveled from Hertfordshire to London, only a day after Charles himself had left.

Just as Charles was about to elaborate, Darcy spoke up, his tone oddly detached and small. "It has been the talk of town, as Mr. Collins has vacated Longbourn to stay with the Lucases, I believe."

Charles shrugged, "I cannot say it is not a surprise, sir. As all of us experienced while Miss Bennet was convalescing at Netherfield, Miss Elizabeth is a woman of strong opinions and unafraid to express them. I never observed her bestow any sort of particular regard for him, beyond what one might bestow upon a relative." To say Miss Elizabeth had _strong opinions_ was putting it lightly, as he had never before witnessed a lady disagree so vehemently with his friend before. To refuse her cousin, the heir to her family estate was entirely in line with what he knew of her character.

"Indeed," was Darcy's scintillating reply, which did not please Caroline, Charles noted, entirely surprised by her reaction.

"Caroline? Does the news displease you?" He could not imagine why his sister would particularly care about Miss Elizabeth's refusal of her cousin. While it was disheartening that Miss Elizabeth, Miss Bennet, and her younger sisters could not inherit their family estate, their fortunes were their own business. While she had become friendly with Miss Bennet, he could not say the same of Miss Elizabeth, and it appeared that the feeling was mutual. They were both fine with being acquaintances, a tangential bond shared only through Miss Bennet.

A short, indifferent, and rather unladylike snort was his answer. Charles kept his reaction to himself, as he could see through Caroline much more than she perceived. She was annoyed by Miss Elizabeth's refusal of Mr. Collins, and he supposed he never would know why, unless she chose to share it with him. But she truly was annoyed, as she would not have made such a noise or gesture with Darcy in the room.

Perhaps she was finally relaxing her manners around Darcy?

Charles smothered a grin. England would fall to the Irish and the Scottish before that happy even could ever occur. However, it reminded him that his original inquiry had gone unanswered.

"Has something happened at Netherfield or Hertfordshire, that you all had to come to London? I have only been gone a day. The estate could not have burned down in that time!"

His joke fell on deaf and dumb ears, and Charles deflated somewhat. What was the matter? Darcy had not looked so grave, yet so ill at ease since he had first encountered him at a social gathering for students at their university. Port, cards, and Darcy did not mix in unfamiliar company.

"I have barely known Miss Eliza for more than a few months, Charles," his sister snapped, "I could hardly say whether it would please or displease me. However, I do wish to speak of much more pleasanter topics, if we can manage that for an evening. How is dear Georgiana? Has she been enjoying her new companion?" she cooed, much more interested in the topic of Darcy's sister than anything else.

"She is perfectly well, Miss Bingley," Darcy responded automatically, sounding as though he were very far away within his own head. "Her companion, Mrs. Annesley has proven to be an astute addition to my household."

"I suppose Miss Georgiana is still just as diligent in her musical studies as she was when we first met? I have never met such an accomplished young woman, especially at her age. She is a credit to you, I am sure."

Darcy barely acknowledged his sister's words, something that concerned Charles immensely. It had been somewhat of a trial for Caroline and Louisa to ingratiate themselves into Darcy's company, as Darcy and Charles had spent most of their time in their club or at Darcy's townhouse. But once they had become close friends, Darcy had opened up to them, in his own way, as he had to Charles. To regress now was disturbing to Charles. It may be a small matter, but Charles was aware that Darcy, especially, had a public and a private face. To show his public face in private, amongst friends, heralded a significant matter. One which was related to why they had followed him to London, and were refusing to answer his questions about it in a straightforward manner.

"Darcy?" Charles stood, finished with his meal, as he had lost his appetite. With a slow nod, Darcy stood as well, and the two friends made their way to Charles' study.

"Are you going to leave me wanting, Jane?"

The teasing lilt of her younger sister Elizabeth served only to make her feel worse, as it turned out. If Miss Bingley had deigned to send her letter before dinner, Jane could have feigned that she had not read the note to Lizzie before dinner, trusting that she would not tell their mama of its existence, and then rushed to retire afterwards. When Elizabeth joined her, always after a visit with their father in his study, she could have affected a sleeping posture, and put the matter to rest for at least a day.

But Miss Bingley had not, and so she was obliged to disclose it with her sister, as painful as it was.

"I shall not, Lizzie, although I believe you will be left with far more questions than answers," was Jane's cryptic reply, one she knew would frustrate her sister more than anything. Lizzie prided herself on being able to see straight through even the most reserved of characters, Jane included. Cryptic answers to her query were not within Jane's character, in Elizabeth's experience. But Jane was not the same person she had been before the Bingleys had arrived to Netherfield, nor would she be now that they had let the estate out.

A person's character was not wholly fixed, Jane fervently believed, so she was only left to consider the idea that the Mr. Bingley who left Hertfordshire a short while ago was different from the Mr. Bingley who was now staying in London for an indefinite amount of time with no word. Jane inhaled sharply, wishing to maintain control of her manner before she truly became upset, and in turn, upset her sisters and mama. It would not be worth the hysterics that it would bring. She was a Bennet, and she would survive.

"Jane?" One could not escape her sister Lizzie when it came to the outdoors. Unless there was a visitor or a meal being shared, one could usually find Elizabeth outside in the small garden, aimlessly walking the pathway, or seated next to the fountain with some embroidery. Despite her lack of patience in other areas of the womanly arts, Elizabeth was skilled at the art.

At her sister's quiet, yet insistent presence, Jane wordlessly passed her the letter and waited for her sister's no doubt passionate response. Elizabeth would have a definitive judgement on the matter, and would not rest until Jane agreed to implement some version of it, while Jane would decidedly have a rather different view of the matter.

The seconds ticked by rather slowly, as Jane waited for Elizabeth to read through the rather elegantly written letter, smelling faintly of hothouse roses. At Elizabeth's short gasp and darkening countenance, Jane surmised that Elizabeth was re-reading the letter, as she had when she first opened it.

Jane could not bear to wait any longer, and was dreading the response of her mama and sisters. If only she had another day to put it out of her mind, to pretend the letter had not even arrived.

When Elizabeth spoke, her tone was resolute and determined, and Jane knew she would brook no argument.

"You must away to London, Jane, when our aunt and uncle arrive at Christmas."

That had not been the response that Jane was expecting, although truth be told, she had no idea as to the response she was expecting. Something different than what she wished to do, that she knew. Beside her, Elizabeth wrapped a comforting arm around her, and Jane leaned into her, seeking comfort from her sister's warmth. It was a tranquil moment that she treasured for she knew the next few weeks would be fraught in the Bennet household.

After a few more minutes of silence, Elizabeth stood, dragging an unwilling Jane along with her by the wrist. "You must not let Mr. Bingley depart because of his sister's machinations!"

Jane drew away, her brow furrowed as she regarded her sister in a calm and collected manner. "It is it not clear enough! Mr. Bingley is not returning to Netherfield, and has found better company. I will not sit and pine for someone who showed me no special regard." Even as she spoke the words, she wished she could take them back.

Shaking her head sharply, Elizabeth refused to hear the truth of her words. "I believe he loves you Jane, and Miss Bingley has attempted to persuade him otherwise. You must at least go in person and see if his obvious regard for you has changed. Aunt and Uncle Gardiner will be pleased to have you stay in their home, and I am sure once you have made it known that you are there he will be drawn to you. What have you to lose?" was Elizabeth's trump card, although there was a sort of pleading finality that Jane could not ignore.

Jane fixed her gaze to her hands, aware that her sister was, in some respects, correct. She could not help but think it would be painful to see Mr. Bingley again, knowing she had misread the few private conversations and charming anecdotes for something more. But it would settle something within her, the longing she had not wanted to confess to her sister. Her pride would be bruised, but she would heal. She would go on.

It would help settle their mama's nerves.

It was a plan, nonetheless.

"Now will you answer my questions? I am quite curious as to why all of you are here and not in Hertfordshire, particularly since there does not seem to be any urgency or emergency that drew you here."

Charles and his friend had seated themselves before the fire, each with a glass of port. With his features bathed in the light of the fire, oddly enough, Darcy looked softer, more vulnerable. The stark lines that were usually seen above his brow, at the corners of his eyes, and down his cheeks had melded into the fire; he almost looked the same as he had on the day they met, a few short years ago. Now Charles could not ever imagine a young Fitzwilliam Darcy displaying his insecurity and shyness so openly, as he had the day of their meeting. In truth, Charles preferred it, although he was sensible enough not to tease his friend too much.

"There has been no grand machination, Charles," was Darcy's chiding reply. "I sought a break from the society of Meryton village. You understand the agony I endured in being so near a blackguard, even as he besmirched my reputation, though the people of Meryton did not need an excuse to dislike me. I do not begrudge your inviting the officers to attend, but I felt certain that Wickham, with his newfound confidence towards me would attend the ball, and I did not wish for that to occur." Darcy had offered, a few days previous to the date of the ball to leave Hertfordshire for a few days in London, but Charles had refused to even think of it. "Even Miss Elizabeth-," Squeezing his hands together tightly, Darcy shook his head unexpectedly, "It was an unexpected evening for me, your ball. I wished to visit Georgiana and clear my head. Your sisters sought to join me last minute, and I could hardly refuse them."

Charles could see the sense in his friend's account of why he had left Netherfield so quickly. When Mr. Wickham's tale of woe had begun to spread all over Meryton and the surrounding estates, Charles had asked him of their connection, as he had never seen Darcy in the company of the Lieutenant Wickham, nor had he ever mentioned him by name. Darcy had quickly confirmed that some parts of the tale were true, such as Darcy's father bestowing upon Mr. Wickham a living worth three thousand pounds once he joined the Church. However, what had not been bandied about was that Mr. Wickham had refused the living, in return for an equal value of the living. When Charles had wished to set the record straight amongst his neighbors, Darcy had refused, citing a private history between the two of them that he did not wish to see bandied about. As much as it pained him to see a friend maligned, Charles did as his friend wished. After all, he was only visiting.

And it was not altogether surprising that his sisters would wish to join Darcy. As much as Caroline and Louisa wished for him to purchase a grand estate, neither of them were country people at heart. While Charles could stay in Town or in the countryside with equal ease, his sisters could not bear it unless it were a house party of short duration, made up of social equals or betters. Otherwise, they had no wish to stay away from London with all its balls and gossip for anything.

"When will you go see Georgiana?" Charles had a wish to see Miss Georgiana again, and had made a note to call upon her before he went back to Netherfield, as the Darcy townhouse was not a great distance from his own, "If the both of you wish to stay here for the few days I will be here, I shall have no argument. I imagine staying in your townhouse with only her companion may have been lonely for her."

"I have sent a note, telling my sister that I am here, and will visit her in the morning," was Darcy's clipped reply, indicating a dark mood.

Charles debated whether or not he should question his friend on his mood, or leave him to brood in peace. The latter won out, as did his sense of self preservation, as a bored and brooding Darcy was an awful object indeed, and rose to leave his friend in his own company, when Darcy stopped him.

"Charles," Darcy's almost plaintive plea caused Charles to sit back down, and face his friend directly, confusion coloring his features plainly. "I have to confess to another motive for coming to London."

Charles wanted to laugh, although he knew his friend would not appreciate his droll humor. "I have never known you to conceal a motive for anything, if you could not relay the matter openly. What is it? You have missed London society and have found it to be infinitely superior to Hertfordshire and Netherfield? Was my country ball truly that awful, once the unpleasant business with Wickham was dispensed with?"

Darcy shook his head again, this time more urgently.

"It concerns Miss Bennet and her family."

The words, spoken so simply, without any adornments or allurements, had Charles taken aback by the rawness of his tone.

Charles hardly recognized his own voice.

"What of her?"

With a heavy sigh, one that invoked the gravity of the situation, Darcy answered Charles, almost in a rush, as though he couldn't wait to get the words out.

"After you left Netherfield, I must confess your sisters and I spoke of your...deep attachment to the eldest Miss Bennet. I confess," and here Darcy glanced at him with a piercing gaze, almost seeking to read Charles' mind so he could ascertain the absolute truth of his words, "I had not believed you were in love with her. Smitten and charmed by her pretty smiles, perhaps, but when you showed her so much favor during the ball, I could not help but notice it. Nor could Miss Bingley nor Mrs. Hurst." Sensing that Charles was about to counter his speech thus far, Darcy rushed to beat him, his voice taking on a darker tone, "However, I personally was not concerned until I was informed by Sir William that Mrs. Bennet, as well as the entire neighborhood, expected you to propose by Michaelmas! As your friend, I can do nothing but give you a word of advice and pray you proceed with caution."

Charles gave another nervous laugh, one that sounded wretched even to his own ears.

"You surprise me Darcy. Caution? Towards Miss Bennet? She is most kind and tender hearted woman I have ever met. There is nothing about her manner I would not recommend to anyone."

"That is exactly the point, my friend," was Darcy's almost smug rejoiner, "her manners were the same towards every gentleman and gentlewoman at the ball. As it has been in other social occasions where we have met. She has not shown any degree of partiality towards you, yet your partiality at the Netherfield ball has given rise to certain expectations."

"Darcy, she-"

"You know it to be true, Charles. She has easy and obliging manners. She enjoys your company, but she enjoys the company of several people. It is not a criticism of her character, but rather a criticism of her family's character."

There Charles had to disagree and vehemently. "You cannot be serious Darcy. I grant you, the Bennets have eager and friendly manners, but I would not subscribe such awful motives towards them. They have been very kind neighbors and friends. If expectations have arisen, it is both of our faults."

"As long as they believed you were to marry their eldest," Darcy gazed into the fireplace, transfixed by the way the orange and red flames licked the grate, his voice sounding far away. "You must search your own heart. Has Miss Bennet ever shown you a particular regard, above all others? And yet these _expectations_ arose from the very first evening you danced twice with Miss Bennet at the assembly hall."

There was no argument Charles could conjure up, so he did not reply. He felt numb and empty. It took him only a few minutes to search through his previously heartfelt and cherished memories of Miss Bennet, as he had done nothing but think of her and every interaction they had thus far since he set foot into his carriage.

Her smiles, her soft conversation and gentle manners.

The way she danced, maintaining a conversation with her partner, while also keeping an eye out for her younger sisters.

Her soft and embarrassed manner and shy smiles towards her dance partner after her mother boasted to him of her beauty that night at the Meryton assembly.

Charles still had not replied to his friend.

He was hardly aware of Darcy moving until he felt a large, warm hand squeeze his shoulder gently.

"You know I do not seek to harm you, Charles. But in this case I must confide in you what I have observed, in the hopes of preventing you from making a mistake from which you may never recover. The matter at hand has little to do with fortune. I simply could not bear to see my friend unwittingly enter into a marriage of unequal affection."

Darcy left his hand on Charles' shoulder a few minutes more, and when Charles still did not reply, he went to remove his hand, but Charles anticipated him.

"I-," Charles did not know what to say. Every look, every smile, every laugh-all private exchanges he believed were between himself and Miss Bennet, had been exposed as a lie.

Of course Darcy was right.

His hand groped for the ring that he had placed inside his inner jacket for a moment, before going back uselessly to his side. He would have to bring the ring back, along with the other jewels he had taken out, as soon as possible. He could not bear to see them any longer. He had never before taken out any jewels, let alone his grandmother's ring, in anticipation of proposing to a lady.

He had been _in love_ before.

That was how he knew Darcy was right. His expectations had never reached marriage, but on the parts of the ladies, Darcy had informed him of the gossip afterwards. That was how he knew Darcy had nothing but his best interests, as these ladies were of older bloodlines and attached to titles far greater than he could ever expect to receive in his lifetime. He was Charles Cyman Bingley, the son and grandson of a trader.

Charles stood. Catching Darcy's hand a moment, he shook it firmly for a few moments longer than what was strictly polite, and scooped up his glass of port to swallow the rest in one easy swallow.

"Thank you my friend," Charles barely heard himself, but he saw Darcy nod in response. "I will go to my rooms. You have given me much to think about. I should-I need to speak to my lawyer tomorrow-," at Darcy's confused look, Charles clarified, "the lease. I do not think I could stay, so long as Miss Bennet lives there."

"We will be able to work through it, old friend," was Darcy's almost comforting reply. "It is only a one year lease. Perhaps I will persuade you to look in other parts of the country now."

Charles nodded distantly, intent on leaving so he could go to his room. "If I listen to you and Caroline," he quipped, "then I will build an exact copy of Pemberley brick by brick on the outskirts of Derbyshire."

Darcy stopped him, as he reached the door, his words still tinge with unease. "I hope I have not hurt you Charles. It was never my intention. My one wish is to be a good friend. I could not ignore the dangers of such a match."

Once Charles summoned up enough will, he gave his friend a small, and what he hoped was an understanding, smile. It was not Darcy's fault. Perhaps it was his own open manner that caused problems no matter where he went.

"The truth can do nothing but hurt, Darcy. But I have old friends to bear the pain with me. It is more than most can hope for."

Darcy's previously ill manner transformed, he went to walk with Charles out of the room. "I hope you will come with me tomorrow to see Georgiana. I may take your offer of removing her from our townhouse to your own. The both of you could do with the company."

Charles gave an encouraging nod, wishing he were elsewhere. The last thing he wanted was for a visitor, even Darcy's sister, right now. But he would not tell his friend no. Perhaps he could manufacture more business for another week or two, and go down to the docks in person, although he knew Caroline hated it when he did so.

"Good night, old friend."

Both men exited the study, and Charles immediately made his way up the grand staircase, passing by the few family portraits that his family possessed. Stopping briefly by the one his grandparents had commissioned of themselves at their fortieth wedding anniversary, Charles allowed his gaze to linger on the ring, the same ring that he held in his jacket. Slipping the small box out of his pocket, he opened it to study it, making comparisons to the portrait and the tangible item.

He couldn't.

He had to leave, and so he snapped the ring box shut.

Before he could, Caroline appeared, almost like a ghost. But the small, cynical side of Charles could not help but think she had been waiting for him. She knew what Darcy was doing, what he was saying of Miss Bennet to him, and she had merely waited to reinforce the message-a tactic she often employed when they were children.

Once she saw that he had seen her, she smiled in a gentle, welcoming manner.

"Caroline," Charles nodded in acknowledgement of her presence, "I am going to my rooms." The ring box was clutched tightly in his hand, and Charles prayed to God that Caroline would not notice it. It was not yet evening, but there was still plenty of natural light that illuminated the hallways.

"I merely wished to gain your opinion of the room that we shall put Georgiana in when she stays with us, brother," Caroline all but purred, her eyes glittering. Caroline was always excessively pleased when Georgiana stayed at their townhouse, or when Darcy invited them to Pemberley or his own townhouse.

"All of the rooms are equal to the other, Caroline," Charles ground out nervously, his hand still squeezing the box. He hoped it was not damaged. "Miss Darcy will be comfortable no matter where you put her, even if the style is the same as Pemberley manor. She would hardly complain if that were the case," he noted, making a reference to her natural shyness and obliging personality.

Caroline pouted, although Charles noticed her dark eyes were still watching him intently. "You treat me so ill, brother! I shall have to confer with Louisa, and you know how she and Hurst are with their tastes. It took every ounce of my influence to not have puce and green cushions in the receiving parlour."

Seeking to end their tete-a-te, Charles reached over and brushed a kiss on his sister's cheek. "I am sure whichever of the rooms you place Miss Darcy in," he knew she would place Georgiana in the best room they had in the family wing, next to her own, "it will suit her perfectly well. Now, I must away to my rooms."

Caroline was not deterred. "But Charles-"

"I am going to my rooms."

Charles repeated himself firmly, hating how he sounded. Perhaps Caroline did as well, for she did not reply, but merely walked down the hall to the staircase, no doubt to give orders to the upstairs maids to strip the best bedroom down again, and redecorate it to Caroline's ever evolving tastes.

Dismissing his valet, it took only a minute for Charles to be completely alone. His back to the door, he sunk down onto the floor, dropping the ring box between his legs. He stared at it from above his folded arms.

How would he ever forget Jane Bennet?

"...and of course I cannot blame my dear Jane! She did everything a beautiful young lady ought to have done." Once the news of Miss Bingley's letter and its far reaching implications had reached her dear mama, it had been all Mrs. Bennet had been able to speak of. The ensuing hysterics ensured that it was one of the rare moments that Jane had been glad Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst had left for London with Mr. Darcy before the letter was even sent. Jane was not so naive as to how ill mannered some members of her family could be, nor would she wish to endure the humiliation of her mama questioning the cool, fashionable Bingley sisters. If they had been in Netherfield after the knowledge that their brother was not returning to Meryton, Jane was sure that her mama would have gone down to Netherfield to _subtly_ probe the sisters about their brother's plans.

Thank God she had not been able to do so.

"Jane!" Jane was snatched from her thoughts by her mama's eager, plaintive cry. "Are you listening, sweet girl?"

Jane had not, but she replied in the affirmative anyway. Across from her, Elizabeth kicked her shin subtly.

"Yes, mama?" Jane questioned with a beaming smile. That particular smile, the one meant to convey to what seemed like scores and scores of visitors who wished to partake in her misery, that she was _truly_ was well, had begun to grate on her nerves. She had smiled so often that her cheeks were beginning to hurt.

"You must tell me exactly what the letter said! Shall you go fetch it? There may be a hidden meaning that Miss Bingley did not wish to tell you, but imparted anyhow."

At their mother's words, Elizabeth snorted rather loudly, an action that caused the wrath of their mama to come down upon her-a fact that did not escape Lydia and Kitty, as they traded smirks and barely smothered giggles.

"And what is it to you, Miss Lizzie?" their mama started contemptuously, rounding on Elizabeth. "Your poor sister has had her heart dashed to pieces, and I shall not have you belittling that pain. Why when I was Jane's age-"

Their papa's voice broke through the din of the Bennet women, "I believe, my dear Mrs. Bennet, you were married to me, and a mother twice over."

Seizing upon their papa's words, Mrs. Bennet gave a mournful sigh, "Married! Indeed you are correct Mr. Bennet. I was married! My poor Jane!" She set her spoon down and threw her napkin into her plate, "I have quite lost my appetite. I declare I shall not eat another wink if Mr. Bingley does not return! Have you not written to Miss Bingley, Jane dear?" she asked, turning a hopeful gaze to Jane.

Jane did not know what to say, as she felt Elizabeth staring intently at her. "I-." She had agreed with Elizabeth's plan to visit her aunt and uncle in London after Christmas, but she had not yet informed the rest of the family. Neither had Elizabeth.

It was Jane's news to tell, and she had not informed the rest of her family.

"Yes, dear?" her mama's voice was strained and gaining an increasing frequency.

"I-."

"Jane, what is it?" her mama all but shouted.

"I wrote to Aunt and Uncle Gardiner about a few weeks ago, asking if I could stay with them in London after Christmas. A few days ago," more like a week ago, according to Jane's calculations, "Aunt Gardiner granted me permission."

Jane may as well have said she had received a title and a new estate worth ten thousand pounds with the way the news impacted her mother.

"Oh my dear Jane! You sly thing, you never said a word all this time! I knew you would not allow Mr. Bingley to slip away. Mr. Bennet," her mama focused her attention on her husband, who had hidden himself away behind the newspaper, and had not so much as twitched at Jane's news, "can you believe Jane has hidden such a thing from us! And our sister, as well." When he did not respond, Mrs. Bennet questioned him further, "Well had you known, Mr. Bennet? Is that why my Jane has hidden such a thing from me? I knew she would have to gain your permission, but I can hardly think of a reason as to why she would not tell her mama."

Jane had not informed her father, and she had not fixed a specific time to do so. Before her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner came, with their children, had seemed appropriately far away. She knew her father would not begrudge her a trip to visit family and take in the London social scene. But she still had not told him.

Whether he had the same thoughts, Jane did not know, but he did not rise to her mother's bait. "I am certain Jane will have a fine time in town, and shall come back with a score of beaus for you to pick through. Isn't that right, my dear?" he asked Jane, giving her a small smirk.

"Papa, you must not joke so," Jane scolded lightly, as she watched her mama take in the possibilities of _other_ suitors in London.

"Quite right my dear, we must focus on Bingley!" was her mama's final word on the subject. "There must have been some misunderstanding, that you must correct. That charming young man was in love with you from the first, and no argument shall dissuade me from believing it."

Her mama's mind made up, she resumed eating her meal quite happily, leaving Jane to pick at her meal until dinner was over.

Was she making the right decision? She could not have forgotten Charles Bingley as quickly as he seemed to have forgotten her.

Was he waiting for her?

"How do you find your rooms, dear Georgiana?" Charles had been attempting to eat his fish course, but was picking at it more than anything. Fish in any form was not his particular favorite, but Caroline and Louisa insisted on it. Everyone else served a fish course, so he must suffer through it. She had been questioning Darcy's sister for the past half an hour, and he could see it was making Miss Darcy more nervous as time went on. Darcy was even quieter than he was, his brooding evident even to his shy sister, and so he had not noticed the haranguing his sister was enduring.

He couldn't help but admonish his sister, "For goodness sake Caroline, allow Miss Darcy to take more than a bite of each course before you interrogation her!"

Both Caroline and Miss Darcy shot him surprised looks, although Caroline's held more animosity within hers. Charles rarely interrupted her, let alone reprimanded her, no matter her behavior. She was his elder sister, after all. He was the youngest, and had been heavily spoilt while in the nursery. His raised voice had caught the attention of Darcy, who glanced at his sister to make sure she was all right and not overwhelmed.

Charles forced himself to apologize. "I am sorry Caroline, Miss Darcy. I seem to be in a monstrous mood tonight." He would not say the reason for it, for everyone but Miss Darcy was aware of the reason why. They all knew, and he was the last to know. As always.

"I am saddened that we are not at Pemberley," Miss Darcy offered shyly, "I find that I enjoy the snow better in the country than in town."

"Surely you do not still play in the snow, Miss Darcy?" Caroline's tone held an incredulous note to it, as though Miss Darcy had informed the table that she still wore nappies at the age of fifteen. Charles chuckled lightly, his mood somewhat lightened by Miss Darcy's contribution to the conversation.

"When we were Miss Darcy's age, Caroline, we spent half our days in the snow and mud, however you wish to pretend otherwise, dear sister." was his laughing reply, a reminder that his sister was sure to not appreciate.

"I am not certain Miss Darcy would wish to hear such stories," Caroline admonished him primly, seeking support from Darcy who, Charles was glad to see, was grinning despite himself.

"Hear, hear," was Louisa's tacit support for their sister, while Mr. Hurst said nothing, but focused all of his attention on his favorite course.

"It is true, Miss Bingley," Charles was surprised to hear Darcy speak. "While our family has implemented several traditional activities during the holiday, such as sleigh riding through the snow with a cup of hot chocolate to keep us warm, Georgiana and I have always enjoyed certain activities in the snow. For many years it was just the two of us, and I would not begrudge a child any fun."

Unable to argue with Darcy's logic, Caroline turned her attention to Charles, to his dismay."We should arrange some amusement for tomorrow, it is after all getting close to Christmas," Caroline glanced down the table to him, "What do you say, Charles? You cannot have much pressing business so close to the holiday." They had quit Netherfield barely a week before, and now it seemed Caroline was under the impression that Charles had gone to London on a whim, and not actually because he needed to settle some business.

He shook his head, rejecting her offer. "I would not be able to join you, should you choose to plan an outing sister, but do not allow that to stop you from doing so. I may need to go to the warehouse for a few weeks," he confessed, "perhaps more. I will let all of you know my plans when I am sure."

"Oh Charles!" Caroline scolded him, "I cannot believe we have a guest for the first time in several weeks, and you will spend all of the time she has here occupied!"

Charles gave a tight smile and muttered his apologies to Miss Darcy once again, unable to keep his mind off of the last guests they had hosted within the same party-Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth at Netherfield. The name that his dear sister tried so hard to avoid was on the tip of everyone's tongues, yet none dared to breathe life into her.

"Even so, dear sister, you shall have to make do," was Charles' final words on the subject.

After dinner, it was a short while until Darcy found him again, alone in the study. Charles was grateful it wasn't Caroline, who had delighted in finding a pet to lead about.

"You will forget her eventually, Charles," Darcy attempted to be gentle in his reminder, but Charles jerked away anyway. It was salt in the wound no matter how sweetly the message was delivered.

Still, he had to agree with his old friend, who was always right. "I'm sure I will," he begrudgingly agreed, "with time. I just wish…."

"Wish what?"

"I just wish I could shout her name to the heavens," Charles confessed quietly. "As long as I do not, she is here," he said, forming his left hand into a fist, and bringing it to his forehead.

"The pain will fade," Darcy reminded him again, "you will see. Now come, you re the host. Let us join the others before my sister worries for me."

Charles allowed himself to be led away, his gaze going towards his desk that still contained his grandmother's wedding ring. He had not allowed himself to return it, but had convinced himself to set it on his desk, and not carry it around in his pocket daily. He was a coward. He should have gone straight back to Netherfield and carried on as though nothing were unusual. But now she would know; everyone would know how foolish he had been.

Jane Bennet would not be forgotten by him for a very long time.

Caroline had very few things in life that pleased her beyond all measure. Her social status and wealth had determined that she was not barred from obtaining her heart's desire on most occasions. All she had left was to have her brother set up in spectacular fashion, marry a suitable heiress, and the rest of her desires would follow. It had taken her quite a while to help her brother along to the favorable situation they found themselves in, and she would give anything to see it through.

"Mr. Darcy," she made sure that her voice was as warm and welcoming as she could make it, as the tall gentleman from Derbyshire joined her at the breakfast table. Keeping country hours had been challenging in the beginning, especially as the gentleman did his best to keep both while staying with them, but it had been a challenge she was willing to overcome. The prize of becoming Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley was not to be won by those who could not awaken a few hours earlier than what should have been decreed by any reasonable person.

The gentleman returned her greeting, and began serving himself. For a few minutes, they both ate silently, but soon Caroline could not withhold her gratitude and pleasure towards him.

"Mr. Darcy, I must say that I am grateful for your addition to our party these last months," she stated casually, furtively searching his face for any reaction to her words, "I do not know how my brother would be without you."

Mr. Darcy, modest as always, demurred her softly spoken praise, "He is my friend, Miss Bingley, and always will be. I will always look out for my friends to the best of my ability," he stated seriously, his eyes looking deep into hers. Caroline could not look away.

"Louisa and I are ever so grateful," she said again. "To think that such a family could have been joining in matrimony with ours…...I am certain you understand our discomfort with the idea. I thank God that you were able to talk him out of such nonsense." Caroline stated vehemently, feeling her anger rise as she thought of the cheek of the Bennets believing that their daughter, with her two hundred pounds could ever compare to a Darcy of Pemberley with thirty thousand pounds.

"Even more so, I would not have Charles tricked into marrying a woman who had no feelings for him. I wish Miss Bennet well, but I could not help but be suspicious of her family's motives in encouraging such a relationship." Mr. Darcy repeated his old arguments, and Caroline allowed him. It was not that she did not agree with him. The Bennets would have everything to gain and nothing to lose if their beloved Jane Bennet married into her family. Love and affection held no place in a marriage, especially when that marriage would be so beneficial to her entire family. It was not surprising that they would use every asset they had-Jane Bennet, a dear, sweet girl with an unfortunate family and little fortune to speak of.

Sighing as she bit into a piece of toast, Caroline moved to much pleasanter matters. She had done her duty, she had separated her brother from that family full of fortune hunters, and it was done. They would never see each other again, and Charles might finally be moved enough to be guided to a more pleasanter option for her sister by law, when the time came.

"Shall we take Miss Darcy riding in the park after breakfast, Mr. Darcy?" Caroline suggested brightly, hurriedly drinking the rest of her tea, as she noticed Mr. Darcy was finishing his own meal.

The carriage had been loaded, goodbyes had been said to all, and yet Jane still found herself hesitating.

"It will be quite all right, Jane," Elizabeth reminded her, as she stood next to their aunt. Immediately upon arriving, their Aunt Gardiner had been treated to the entire history of Jane and Mr. Bingley, from the moment he set foot in Hertfordshire. The rumors of how many gentlemen and ladies he had brought, to how many carriages he possessed, and down to the color of his coat when he called upon Sir William. No detail was too small to be shared, and it had taken the better part of three hours to impart. "Show him you are there and unafraid."

Jane nodded slowly, taking in her sister's words as she glanced around Longbourn again. It would be a few months before she saw her home again, something she used to dread. However this time she found herself getting a little excited, despite herself.

Jane embraced her sister again. "I will write to you often," she whispered softly. "Wish me luck, Lizzie," she squeezed her sister tightly, as she finally confessed her undying desire to be reunited with Charles Bingley once again. Elizabeth squeezed her back just as hard, an acknowledgement of her near silent confession.

Climbing into the carriage, Jane didn't even notice it moving away, nor when she was jostled and bumped by her younger cousins, as she finally allowed herself to dream of what could be.

The End


End file.
